


Lay Us Down

by thegirlwholikestowrite



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5404523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwholikestowrite/pseuds/thegirlwholikestowrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was like a stab in the chest, the realization. That there would be no more Dan and Phil, no more Pinof, no more live shows together, no more gaming together. No more together. It still didn’t erase the times those things existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Us Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Guys!  
> I have been inactive for so long wow  
> Well here you go, another fic where my beautiful son dies.  
> Sorry bro  
> Hope you guys like it!  
> (Also this is inspired by that one Tumblr post I couldn't find the link of)  
> Panic!At The Disco- The End Of All Things (I AM SUFFERİN)

What a fragile thing was existence, how the brutality of death could shatter it in seconds. What does it mean when death takes the person you would die for, that they aren’t going to feel the wind in their hair again, they won’t see your eyes, won’t hear their favorite song again. They won’t be able to giggle at three in the morning at a joke you made, they won’t feel your love again. How easy it is, to lose your entire being in moments? Does anyone know, how you function with your limbs cut off and hands tied behind your back, only your mouth left to scream?

Dan didn’t know. He only read in books about this excruciating pain of loss, he only watched it in movies. Nothing he could do, no words he could speak that would bring him back. Nothing would bring him back. No time spent crying into the blue green duvet, breathing in his far too familiar, but far too gone scent would be enough to make Phil come back. Dan knew that much.

What he didn’t know was, he would one day wake up, eat cereal out of the same bowl with Phil, glue their eyes to the same TV screen, curl up in the same sofa, watching the same thing, feeling the same things. What he didn’t know was that they would shove each other into the bathroom because they were rushing to two different places, that they would flat iron their different colored hair, looking in the same mirror, laughing at the same joke, staring at the same reflection. What he didn’t know was he would just say a simple goodbye, then rush out the door, phone in hand, shoes untied. What he didn’t know was that he would get a call later that day, from PJ.

What he didn’t know was that what PJ would tell him would drift his life apart to different streams and he would be beaten down with the betrayal of death. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Phil was young, Phil had more time. And that time wasn’t just a casual acquaintance, it was the enemy. What he didn’t know was that he spent days, sobbing into the Jack sweatshirt he bought Phil for is birthday. He didn’t know anything.

He didn’t know that he would be forced to leave the house, to see friends crying in front of a walnut colored casket, he was obligated to shake hands with people that didn’t relate to his suffering, he was supposed to hug Phil’s mom, while she shook and cried into his shoulder. He was supposed to just stand there, hold his breath, keep the tears from pouring out.

He got a text from Peej a couple hours before the funeral.

“Do it for him.” He was so tired of clenching his teeth to bite down on his tears and he was so tired of shaking and he was so tired of accidentally forgetting what happened and walking in Phil’s room to say something and seeing his unmade bed from days ago. He was so tired of breaking objects and screaming into his hands about how it wasn’t fair.

God, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

He was so tired of missing Phil, he was so tired of breaking every time he checked the time on his phone because his lock screen was a photo of them in front of YouTube, he was so tired of walking around the house and seeing ghosts of Phil wherever he went. He was so tired of opening the cabinet over the sink to get some cereal only to realize he just couldn’t. He was so tired of looking for things to eat then finding packages of random things that Phil put googly eyes on. He was so tired of those waves of pain that hit his chest whenever he thought of him. He was so tired.

He was especially tired of remembering the last time he had seen him, like how he never got to say goodbye. Like he never actually told him how much he mattered. He should have said I love you more. Saying “Text me when you get home” or making an extra cup of coffee, or leaving chocolate on his bedside table just in case he was sad without telling Dan, those things weren’t enough to say I love you. And he hated the time he found out. The ground slipping under his feet, the crack in Peej’s voice when he said Phil was gone, the paralyzing fear he felt in his skeletal chest, the things roamed around his mind.

I should have said it more, he thought. I should have said it better.

Was death easy for him? Was it instant? Was it painful? Where was he? Why was he gone? Would he return? Would Dan get another chance to hug him, tell him that he is thankful for everything and nobody ever loved him this much? Would they get another chance? Was life hesitant when giving second chances? Did they deserve a second chance? How was an ending just and ending? What was an ending? Dan was losing his mind. He had to leave, he had to get ready. He had to see people.

Everyone loses someone they care about, he tried to comfort himself. They all did fine after all didn’t they? They didn’t spend the rest of their lives regretting things they never did or words they never said. Dan was also tired of sniffling like a sick dog; all those tears weren’t enough to physically take the pain out of him. He was never going to find hope in the numbing silence of the flat. He dragged himself to his room, emptied his closet for something decent. The moth shirt, he grinned bitterly. That was Phil’s personal favorite. He always loved it when Dan wore it. Ironic it was, carrying the thing that scares on you. It was no different than carrying these memories around. They were dynamite, and whenever he was this close to fire, good things didn’t come out of it.

He folded his shirts neatly, like he wasn’t rushing anywhere, like his best friend’s cold body wasn’t waiting for him at a church or something. The matching Pacman T-Shirts, the flannel Phil gave Dan when they were in Manchester, his chest was hurting. He found a jacket and a clean white dress shirt and closed the closet. His eyes drifted to his piano, times he spent trying to teach Phil how to play and how they ended up laughing at Phil’s clumsy attempts. He took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be that hard.

He found himself staring at the bathroom mirror for more than he intended, his eyes were sunken, it looked like he got no sleep for three weeks, it had been three days. He washed his face with cold water and did his tie. He had to learn, he had to look up a goddamn tutorial because Phil, wasn’t there like he used to be.

Phil wasn’t here like he used to be.

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, nothing was helping. He found his keys on the table in the lounge, the colored chairs, how he used to argue that they weren’t actual beings with thoughts and characteristics but they ended up putting it in the book. Like how every small thing was more important with Phil, more vibrant, more amazing.

Would he even be able to use that word ever again now? Without his voice breaking, without every ounce of his being fighting against the urge to cry. He needed Phil, and he wasn’t so oblivious to this before. He always needed someone that helped him up when he thought he was happy crawling on the ground, ne needed love, he needed attention. Without him, he would either end up depressed, stuck in university with a major he didn’t want, no purpose to turn to. Without him, he was completely defenseless, purposeless.

Walking the streets he always walked with Phil, how their steps were synchronized without even trying, how they fit together so well. Would he ever go to Manchester again, to see old friends, to visit old places? Would he want to remember times he spent with Phil? Would he want to forget? Would he watch his videos over and over again, just to cherish his memory?

Would this pain fade, would it etch itself into a ghost that appeared rarely, or was Dan haunted now. Did it really matter that he had lost a piece of him, wasn’t Phil still alive with the things he had done. They had accomplished so much in just seven years. Seven years was all it took for them to create things that would bond people, save people, make people smile. Wouldn’t they remember Phil, wouldn’t everyone be reminded of the blue eyed pure kindness? Would you be really dead if traces of you still lingered behind, if parts of you still existed within others? Would you be really gone?

All those times Dan spent thinking about existence and memory and death and life, this was the question he could never bring himself to answer. Now it was clear, it was clear than it ever had been. Just because Phil’s body was materialistically gone, just because his breathing had stopped, his heart wasn’t beating, did it really mean that Phil was gone. Things he had done, lives he had touched, ever single second that he existed, it was real. Phil was real. Phil wasn’t gone. Dan was here. Dan knew.

Maybe watching movies cuddled up together watching movies with Phil, complaining about how loudly he chewed the popcorn, hearing him say Daniel, chilling with matching Marvel PJs, or rambling about how amazingly intimate the backgrounds of Studio Ghibli movies were, or having extreme conversation on the phone at two in the morning because they were too lazy to leave the warmth of their beds, maybe they wouldn’t make playlists for each other now, or reach for each other at a social event when it felt like too much, they wouldn’t get to eat together and laugh together and fall asleep together with video drafts on their lap. And maybe the second cup of coffee that Dan would always keep on making would stay on the counter, and he would keep on wearing the green hoodie Phil gave him whenever he got sick and he would always, always keep on loving Phil. Phil wasn’t gone.

They had done so much in so little time, maybe, just maybe life gave them more time, they would do more. But on his way to the tube station, all Dan could think about was how much of a best friend he was, and the value of their friendship that he would always miss. Like how they liked to work together, as separate people, but in the same room, on the same sofa, their knees touching, in silence. Like how Phil would remember the word Dan wanted to use exactly but couldn’t remember, or when they were grocery shopping together, Dan would occasionally forget to buy cereal and Phil would remind him, like how Phil always insisted on not turning off his flat iron, and Dan would jokingly get angry, how sometimes they would be too lazy to go to their own rooms so they would stay in each other’s, just taking time to be thankful. They were so lucky, that the pairing the universe chose was so perfect and fitting.

They were fitting. And they didn’t talk much about it in front of a camera but they cared for each other. Phil would wait for Dan to wake up so that they could have breakfast together, or Dan would make Phil tea when he was sick, they would share their clothes, they would talk about the smallest things in their lives and the biggest things in existence. Phil would leave sticky notes around the flat so Dan would see them and smile, or Dan would play Phil’s favorite songs on the piano when he was upset, sometimes they would be too lazy to cook and order pizza or spend hours cooking a fancy dinner shoulder to shoulder. They would talk on the phone with people for each other if the other was feeling anxious. They would text each other when they were apart, miss each other when they were apart, and make fun of each other’s hair. Bird’s nest Phil would say, Stop dying it jet black Dan would answer back. Phil would beg Dan not to straighten his hair just to play with his curls and Dan would ask to examine the color of Phil’s eyes regularly. Phil would annoy the living shit out of Dan when he was editing, and Dan would convince Phil into using Comic Sans in his videos. They would jam out to Muse together, Dan would dreadfully listen to Phil singing in the shower and sometimes secretly record it, in return Dan would make Phil listen to Kanye. Ironically he would say. They would laugh and giggle whenever Uma Thurman came on shuffle while they were cleaning and Phil would complain about the unnecessary crap that he found behind drawers and cabinets. When they were tired after a long week they would sit on the kitchen floor and eat cereal out of the box with their hands. Like how they would always sing “bananas” before playing video games together and how they could never keep a straight face. The small jokes they had kept to each other, and their taboo words. The times that Phil used to tower over Dan, times they joked sleepily joked about how they were literal giants. The small things Phil kept in a box, when they wanted to relive memories or feeling upset, it was their secret sanctuary, tickets to every single movie they went to, the small papers for the first Phil Is Not On Fire. There was just so much left of Phil physically and emotionally.

He wasn’t gone.

He made it in time to the church, there were so many cars and so many people and he thought of chickening out and just returning to their flat, but it felt like he was supposed to do it. One last time, for the sake of Phil. One last goodbye.

It was like a stab in the chest, the realization. That there would be no more Dan and Phil, no more Pinof, no more live shows together, no more gaming together. No more _together_. It still didn’t erase the times those things existed.

He walked in the crowd, not wanting to look at anyone or anything especially that obnoxiously too big coffin for Phil’s too small body. He saw Louise and Chris somewhere around the crowd. They met his eye and both nodded sadly, Chris awkwardly fumbled with his tie. Dan didn’t know what to do with himself. He silently walked towards the front row, quietly searching for Phil’s mother. She was probably devastated. They were all devastated.

Dan was devastated.

He tried to get rid of the lump in his throat, but it wasn’t going away. He was scared that he would lose it in front of this crowd and cry and make a fool of himself and that wouldn’t be okay with him. Tears were biting at the corners of his eyes as his eyes met Phil’s mom. Her face was red, her eyes puffy from crying so much. Dan didn’t know what to do other than embrace her small body in a tight hug. She was shaking, crying into Dan’s shoulder. And he cried with her.

Loss was a vivid thing. Everyone didn’t live it equally or felt the same pain but death was so obvious in the faces of everyone standing in this room.

After Dan let go of her, PJ walked over to him, and nodded slowly. The blink of his eye, the familiar color of his eyes, it reminded him of Phil but was calming nevertheless.

“How are you holding up?”

“I am good I guess.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, it was uncomfortable, just being in here.

“Are you sure?”

They shared a simple glance in a matter of seconds, Peej knew he wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay.

“I just… can’t believe. You know… it was too sudden. I wasn’t prepared for it.”

“No one is prepared for death. We never know when it’s coming, do we?”

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” His voice broke and he found himself crying into PJ’s shoulder. Peej’s hands found their way to the sides of Dan’s shoulders. He was shaking, he was miserable. They stayed that way Dan didn’t know how long.

“I am sorry. Phil was the best we could have ever asked for. I hope he’s watching over us somewhere.” Peej tried to smile. Dan did too.

“He would be a horrible guardian angel, think about it.” Their sadness ridden laughs faded away, people started to leave the church, it was over. Dan had actually written a speech, but he crumbled the piece of paper in his hands. His pain and suffering and doubt and misery was reserved for Phil only.

People left, Phil’s mom cried, Martin hugged Dan for a little too long, Louise cried with Dan, Chris cried with Dan, patted him on the shoulder. People came, people cried, people left. Everyone was gone, it was the perfect time, to go talk to his best friend.

His throat hurt, he couldn’t get the words out.

“Hi Phil,” he could blurt out before he started shaking with sobs. He was so tired of holding it and so tired of talking about what a good friend Phil was and how much he would be missed. But Dan was miserable, Phil was gone and Dan would miss him and he was gone and that was it.

“Uhm… I guess this will be the last time we talk huh? I… I couldn’t get to say goodbye anyway. So, let’s both pretend I am saying it now, okay? I just… I want you to know that everything we did together… I am so proud of it Phil, I am so proud. I am proud of us. People love you, and they will continue loving you, and that means you will never be completely gone and I guess that’s what will keep me going for the rest of my life but Jesus, did you have to leave? I… I will miss you I guess. I will miss your stupid jokes and stupid laugh and stupid smile… Phil, I… I don’t want to do it without you. But… if there is existence after death, I hope you are happy.”

He stopped to catch his breath. His hand lingered on the brown casket, trying to calm his shaking.

“Phil, this… this was the most fun I have ever had”

He kissed the walnut colored box, his tears rushed down his face. He wiped his cheeks. There wasn’t more to be said, more to be done. Some things were better left unsaid, some things were better undefined.

 


End file.
